


Old Flames and Faith

by Miso



Series: A War He Can't Forget [9]
Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Vietnam War, almost cheating? but its just a kiss, heat of the moment kiss, kinda sad but with like a legit sweet ending???, thats the word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 10:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10717485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: Floyd has an unexpected blast from the past appear at a veterans' event.





	Old Flames and Faith

**Author's Note:**

> i SWEAR i meant for this to just be cute and fluffy D: oops. if you forgot jack, he was floyd's old flame in vietnam, who we "met" back in "spring cleaning." earl is a jealous little shit and floyd is really good at beating himself up for mistakes.

Floyd awkwardly sipped his drink and leaned against the bar. He'd never, ever considered going to any sort of veterans event. Why would he? He owed a good 70% of his trauma to being a veteran. But his therapist had said maybe it would be a good way to face his trauma head-on, to network with people who had gone through similar things, and wouldn't you know it the American Legion post in Melonville was hosting a little get-together for Vietnam veterans that Saturday, what a coincidence.

He hadn't wanted to go. Why would he go when he could spend the night getting drunk and having flashbacks in the privacy of his own home where he wouldn't be disgraced if he got blackout drunk and then woke up in a puddle of his own vomit and piss on the bathroom floor the next morning? But if his therapist insisting hadn't been enough, Earl insisted too. "I'll go with you," he said, "It'll be fine, if you need to go home we can come with a code phrase or something." They'd settled on making something up about feeding the dog. No one had to know they didn't have a dog and that was code for "I'm about to have a panic attack and need to get out of here."

"Hey. You doing alright?" Earl placed a gentle hand on Floyd's shoulder, barely audible over the music. Floyd shrugged and took another sip of his drink, wincing as the whiskey burned on its way down. Jack and Coke without the Coke was exactly what he needed to get through this party. "... I mean, you haven't talked to anyone. You've been lurking in the corner all night." Floyd remained silent. "Just... try and talk to someone? Anyone?"

"I don't know these people." Floyd's response was concise and hissy. He downed the remainder of his whiskey and put the glass down on the bar. "What do I even fucking say? 'Hey, I'm Floyd, I'm 40 years old and what I went through in Vietnam makes me want to kill myself?' This is stupid. I can't believe you talked me into this."

Earl cocked an eyebrow. "You're acting more like a 4 year old than a 40 year old." He leaned into his boyfriend and kissed his cheek. "Just... join a conversation. And cool off on the booze a little, okay? You've been doing really good on cutting back lately..."

"You're not my dad." Floyd shrugged Earl off of him. "Just... leave me alone. I don't want to fuckin' be here so I'm gonna act like I'm not. You go schmooze if you want." He gestured to the bartender for another drink. "But I'm just gonna stay here and try to pretend I'm anywhere else."

"Fine." Earl's voice was twinged with just a hint of anger. "Act like that, then. But I'm not covering for you if something embarrassing happens to you." With that, Earl wandered off, and Floyd was left to nurse his third tumbler of whiskey. He kept his eyes locked on the wood grain of the bar. He barely noticed when someone came up beside him.

"... Holy shit," A sonorous, slightly Southern voice mumbled. A hand tapped him on the shoulder, to which Floyd responded "I'm not fucking interested."

"Well, that's quite a way to greet your old flame."

That definitely got his attention. Floyd looked up incredulously, greeted by baby blue eyes and blond curls and a familiar coy smirk. "... Jack."

"The one and only." Jack smiled a little and took Floyd's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"That it has." Floyd's voice was barely a whisper. The cheesy hand-kiss had always been a favorite move of Jack's. "I... I thought for sure you were dead."

"I thought the same thing about you. Who'd have thought we'd end up in the same place, huh?"

"Yeah. I... wow." Floyd smiled a little. "C-can I buy you a drink?"

***

Earl was busy talking to one of the various wives present when he glanced toward the bar, mostly to make sure Floyd hadn't drank himself into unconsciousness yet. He felt himself bristle at the sight of a handsome guy just a bit too close to Floyd for comfort. Yeah, no, not flying. Earl moved to the bar as casually as he could.

"Hey, babe," he chirped, wrapping his arm around Floyd's shoulders. "Who's your friend?" He hoped it sounded innocent enough to a casual observer. Probably not to Floyd, certainly not to Mr. HotBod McHandsomeFace, but to someone with no idea what was going on it was just a casual question. Right?

 

"... Um." Floyd smiled nervously. "Earl, this is... this is Jack. I think I told you about him." Ohhh, so THIS was Jack? Earl forced a smile and stiffly offered his hand to shake. "Jack, this is Earl." No 'my boyfriend' qualifier? Incredible.

Jack shook Earl's hand a bit too casually. "Nice to meet you. Don't remember seeing you in 'Nam, though. What-"

"I wasn't in the army," Earl interrupted. "I'm Floyd's boyfriend." Jack rose an eyebrow as he glanced over Earl, like he was trying to figure out what Floyd saw in him. "I'm just glad to see him socializing. He really didn't want to come tonight."

"You didn't?"

"Earl," Floyd began, forcing a smile of his own. "Doll, can... can I just have some time to catch up with Jack? Please?"

"Oh, sure!" Earl smiled again, still blatantly forced. "You two enjoy your chit-chat." He kissed Floyd's cheek, maybe a bit too pointedly, and trotted away to hide in a corner out of sight. Floyd sighed a little and shook his head, blushing a bit. Goddamn Earl.

"Sorry about that."

"Possessive?"

"He knows we were a thing." Floyd bit his lip and glanced at the bar again, following the grain of the wood with his eyes for a second to calm down a bit. Between Jack's very unexpected re-emergence into his life and whatever Earl was pulling, he was getting pretty flustered. Maybe whiskey wasn't quite strong enough for tonight after all. "I... he's never acted like that before. I'm sorry about that."

Jack snorted softly with laughter. "It's sweet. Can't say as I understand, but it's sweet."

"What do you mean?"

"Well... let's just say I didn't peg you as being into the nerdy type."

"Oh." Yeah, that was a valid point. Every guy Floyd had drooled over before had been either a feminine, adorable thing or a musclebound hunk that wouldn't have looked too out of place in an exhibit of ancient Greek statues. Earl was neither. Adorable, yes, but neither a shimmering deity nor at all effeminate. Sure, there was that one time he'd put on a blonde wig, lipstick, and cat-eye glasses, but that was for some harebrained idea to pose as one of the few female correspondents at SCTV News when she called in sick. She wasn't even blonde, nor did she wear glasses, which left Floyd wondering what on Earth Earl had been thinking. "I mean... he's cute. He's funny. And... and he's really helping me through a lot."

"Is he?" Jack quirked an eyebrow again. Goddamn suave son of a bitch, he knew his way around Floyd's heart. This, from someone he hadn't seen in damn near 20 years, whom he'd "dated" for barely one! "What's the matter, Bloodhound?" Fuck, no, not his old army nickname. Floyd had been dubbed Bloodhound for his uncanny ability to sense and avoid buried mines. He had hoped he would never, ever hear it again.

"... What isn't wrong, Jack?"

"Oh, poor bunny." Jack smiled sweetly. "Come on and tell me what's wrong."

***

Floyd heaved a sigh and took a long drag off of his cigarette. "You really want to know what's wrong with me?" he asked, leaning against the wall. The late spring air was warm and humid, and a breeze lightly rustled his hair as Jack stood beside him and lit a cigarette of his own. Behind an American Legion post might not be the most glamorous place to spill your guts, but he'd rather no one else hear.

"I do. You know we have 20 years of catching up to do." Jack exhaled smoke into the wind. "Talk to me, Bloodhound."

Floyd hoped Jack didn't notice him wince. "... I saw a war crime in Vietnam. Me and a bunch of guys I was working with stumbled across a cave, full of civilians. I don't know what they were doing there. Trying to flee, maybe, I don't know. But... they were North Vietnamese, so... so the other guys just started shooting. Most of the people were women and children."

Jack was silent. Floyd took a deep breath and a drag from the cigarette to steady his nerves before continuing. "I didn't shoot, but... I couldn't move. I couldn't run, couldn't say anything. It was like I was made of lead. There was this little girl... one of them shot her mother, then... then before he shot her, she just... looks up at me and cries like she wants me to help but I can't move..." He bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes.

"That was in present tense."

"I-I... I have nightmares about it. Almost every night." Floyd took shuddering breath, desperately trying to hold back the tears. "And... when it's not Vietnam, it's shit my dad put me through..."

"Oh, honey." Jack took another puff of his cigarette. Floyd ground his out under his heel. Nicotine and booze could only steel his nerves so well for so long. "Where was I...?"

"Not there, obviously." Floyd chewed his nails instead of lighting another cigarette. If his usual nervous habits didn't help, he resorted to nail-biting. It wasn't pretty or aloof or anything, but it was strangely calming. Even though he'd been known to chew his nails to the quick now and then. "I... I just..." The tears he'd so desperately been trying to force back finally spilled over. "I'm not okay, Jack. I haven't been since '62."

"Mmm." Jack finished his cigarette and moved closer to Floyd, gently taking his hands in his own. "You're crying."

"Y-yeah, that happens when you're t-talking about your emotional scars." Floyd didn't take his hands from Jack's, though. Hell, he found himself leaning into Jack's touch as his tears were wiped away. "... I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Jack whispered. "It's alright."

There was a pause, slightly uncomfortable. Jack and Floyd held each other's gaze for a moment, before, acting on impulse, they kissed, slow and stolen and delicate like those illicit moments they'd had 20 years prior. Parting, they were quiet. They just... looked at each other, hazel on blue. "... I never got over you," Jack whispered. "Never. I always missed you. There have been others but you're... you're special." He gently brushed away the tracks of Floyd's tears. "I still love you."

Floyd's heart stopped for just a second. Had he ever really gotten over Jack? No. Not really. He still had that picture, that last letter. But... he had Earl. "... I never really got over you, either," he admitted. "But... I wanted closure. Not sex."

"No one will know if we spend one night together."

"My boyfriend will." Floyd backed away from Jack slightly. "I can't, Jack. He's poured his heart and soul into helping me. Me, of all people." He felt himself laugh a bit, bitterly. "And... I can't treat him like that. I can't break his heart." Floyd untangled his hands from Jack's, separating from him entirely. "... Earl's been good to me. The least I can do is be good to him, too."

Jack, silent, stared at him a minute. "... I guess I get it." He paused and glanced at the ground, nudging a pebble around with the toe of his shoe. "I mean... if he ever gives you, like, a hall pass..."

"Earl's pretty exclusive, Jack." Floyd moved to head back inside. "... Thanks, though. I needed to know you were alive."

Without another word, he walked back into the Legion and scanned the crowd inside. Earl wasn't too hard to spot; for once his tacky taste in clothes came in handy. He was given the cold shoulder upon his return. "... Don't do this, Earl."

"Do what? I'm giving you space to catch up with-"

"I left him outside, Earl." Floyd watched as Earl turned to him, looking a bit skeptical, and softened when he saw Floyd was indeed alone. "... He kissed me. He tried to get me to go home with him. I told him no. I told him I couldn't break your heart like that."

"Aren't you just a gentleman." Earl's response was flat, unsurprised.

"... You're not upset that he kissed me?"

"I figured he'd pull something like that. I mean... I've seen people do dumber things after a few drinks and getting wrapped up in the moment." Earl shrugged. "You ditched him?"

"Not so much ditched as turned him down and came back here." Floyd glanced around the room momentarily. "... Can we just head home?"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." Floyd gently took Earl's hand. "... I need to make that kiss up to you."

"Floyd, I'm not mad."

"I am." He pulled Earl to his feet gently. "I'm pissed at myself for coming that close to doing something worse. I love YOU. I don't want him. I just wanted to know what happened to him."

Earl smiled a little. "I'm serious, I'm not mad. I know you better than that." He kissed Floyd gently and ran a hand through his hair all the same. "But if you're that upset... I suppose I can come up with a way for you to make it up to me."

"Anything." Floyd almost sounded desperate, like he was terrified Earl was actually upset at him, mere moments from leaving him over a spur-of-the-moment kiss with an old flame that went nowhere. He was tense and wringing his hands, never a good sign.

"... You're panicking." Earl glanced around the room himself and spotted an easy exit path. Guiding an increasingly-distraught Floyd outside, to the car, and settling into the backseat with him, he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Floyd. Floyd, look at me." He tipped his lover's chin upward to look him in the eyes. "You're okay. I swear, it's fine, I'm not upset."

"You are." There it was. Truth. Earl shook his head gently and pulled Floyd close.

"I'm not. I promise. You're upset because you think I am." Earl stroked Floyd's hair gently, one of his favorite ways to ground him in reality. "I'm not mad. It was just a stupid kiss."

"You'll leave." Floyd's voice was broken, choked, and he sounded like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't... it just happened..."

"Floyd, baby, it's alright. I swear, I won't leave, I'm not going anywhere." Earl adjusted his position slightly and pulled Floyd's head to his chest. "Breathe. In and out. It's alright." He took a few deep breaths of his own, encouraging Floyd to follow his rhythm.

Fingers tangled in Earl's shirt, Floyd tried to breathe in time with him. In. Out. In. Out. Slow, deep, steady. Tears pricked his eyes again, and he cursed himself. Twice in one night, he was going to cry? Really? Earl stroked his hair slowly and breathed slowly, guiding him.

"There you go," he whispered as his boyfriend began calming down. "It's alright. I'm not leaving. Nothing's going to happen." This particular reaction was more a result of Floyd's childhood than his experiences during the war. His father would berate him for every little mistake on good days and beat him for them on bad ones. Earl'd heard a story about how Mr. Robertson had left Floyd on a chain they'd used for a dog they'd once had, clipped to his belt loop in the backyard, but he wasn't sure he bought that. Floyd had had a few drinks when he told that one. It would explain his fear of being abandoned, though, he supposed.

Floyd was still and quiet a moment longer, then shuddered and forcibly wiped his eyes. "Fuckin'... I'm sorry..." he whispered. "I shouldn't make you do that every time I get freaked out."

"It's alright. Not your fault, babe." Earl smiled warmly, genuinely, reassuringly. "You know, all things considered, tonight could have gone worse."

"How...?"

"You could have gotten drunk, passed out, and woken up covered in piss and puke in a public bathroom." Earl stroked Floyd's hair again, gently. "Or you could have said 'fuck it' to all of your morals and actually run off with Jack. But you didn't." He smiled again. "One stupid heat of the moment kiss isn't going to change anything. I love you. I'm pretty sure you love me."

"So much..."

"See? Then it's all gonna be fine." Earl managed to sit up straight. "Now, let's head home, alright? We'll get some food on the way home and just... sit in front of the TV and pretend we're the only two people on Earth."

Floyd smiled a little. "... I like that idea."

"Thought you might. You wanna stay in the back or sit up front?" Floyd was already out of the backseat and settling himself in the passenger seat before Earl finished his sentence. "... Well. Answers that question." Clambering into the driver's seat, Earl put the car in gear and paused long enough to gently thread his fingers between Floyd's. "I love you. And I'm proud of you."

"I love you, too." Floyd gave Earl's hand a squeeze. "Not sure I've given you a reason to be proud of me, but I love you, too." With a soft chuckle, Earl untangled his hand from his lover's and set off towards home.


End file.
